Homecoming
by Marshstone
Summary: Vlad never gave up cloning Danny, but one clone refuses to be used. He comes to the Fentons with the paperwork to prove he's their child, seeking only protection from his creator. What he finds instead is not mere protection, but a family. When Vlad comes looking to take his creation back, however, he unwittingly invokes the wrath of all the Fentons. Eventual Revelation fic.
1. Chapter 1

It was a picturesque winter day.

Ice clung to the snow laden trees in thin icicles, the streets were cleared and despite a thin layer of ice on the sidewalks, he hadn't slipped up yet. The air was so crisp and clean it was like breathing in alertness and awakening itself instead of city air. He pulled his suitcase along behind him as he got out of the car, his social worker ahead of him. He had yet to get used to the winter season as it existed here. The way the light played off the snow dazzled him. He felt as if he had stepped into an unreal world, a place where everything was possible and he could start over anew. As he adjusted his tinted blue sunglasses, he barely gave the giant, strange structure in front of him a glance.

His eyes were blue, sharp and focused, eyes a bit on the narrow side, almond shaped. But when the door opened, he didn't feign a smile. His faith in the ability of this plan to work was minimal at best. Sure, he'd contacted Social Services, he'd had DNA tests done, he'd managed not to trip any of the alarms yet. But one wrong move and this tentative security he hoped to build would crash down all around him, shatter like a wall of ice in the spring. Or however ice was destroyed; he still hadn't seen it before the past two weeks and the mechanics of it were still lost on him.

The woman at the door was pretty, with bobbed auburn hair and purple eyes, slightly tanned skin, and a warm if confused smile. The confusion made her scrunch up her face and then, then she got a look at him and her eyes went wide. He knew why. He may have had a little variance, but he was identical to Danny in facial structure, eye color, hair color. He was for all intents and purposes a paler version of her son, one with his hair slicked back and a thinner, taller body. He held her gaze and felt his own face betray his uncertainty. This plan was so uncertain already, and now it seemed destined to fail right out of the gate.

But she stepped forward and took his suitcase from him, her touch gentle, and invited both the boy and his social worker into the house. For a fleeting moment he felt comforted by her presence.

Then she called for Jack, and his apprehension came running back.

* * *

The results of the DNA test were undeniable facts.

They both seemed to be in shock, but there was nothing they could do or say in response other than decide whether to keep him or send him to a foster home. He laced his black gloved hands together and prayed silently that they would pick the latter. If they didn't, he would surely be found out. It would be a set of dominos falling, a disaster after another after another if he didn't find a place to live permanently soon. He needed legal sanctity in order to keep himself afloat. He hadn't intended to involve them, it just happened that every plan had failed but this and he needed to resort to it, unethical as it was to drop this bombshell on them. He'd run out of lies and resources, so he'd run to them.

"Of course we'll be looking after him," the woman said firmly, looking at her heavyset husband for confirmation.

In his dark, dull blue eyes there was confusion still, but his smile and nod was genuine enough. "He's our son. We're not throwing him out on the street.

Everything in him relaxed at those words. He let out a sigh, visibly losing tension at their words. He looked at them and found them both looking back with an emotion he couldn't identify in their eyes. He'd seen a similar look in a few eyes in his life, usually when he was taking advantage of someone and they hadn't yet realized it. He wondered how long he would be able to keep things up this time. He hoped against rational thought this would be permanent. He hoped against everything that he knew to be true that for once, he could stay somewhere for more than a few weeks, live somewhere with steady food, have a bed to sleep on that wasn't practically falling apart if it existed at all.

But the lack of luxury had been worth the freedom. The work to get here was all worth it if he could be free and safe for once. That was all he wanted from these people.

When the social worker left them with a stack of paperwork a mile high to get them started, he looked up at them, sitting uncertainly and looking a touch lost at the table. "So, I suppose you two want me to explain where I've been up until now."

He had prepped for this, devised a story to cover his tracks as best he could. But when he opened his mouth to start, his 'mother' shook her head. She stepped closer, eyes softening, and then suddenly her arms were around him. He sat as shocked as if she'd slapped him. More stunned, actually, since he'd been slapped before but never embraced in his life. He sat ramrod still in his chair, breathing in the scent of her coconut conditioner, too paralyzed to move all of a sudden. Emotions twisted in him he couldn't identify, had never had before. They were clouding him in such a haze he almost missed her words.

"However this happened, sweetie, we're just glad to have you back." Her grip tightened around his shoulders. "You can tell us everything later. Right now, we just need you to know it'll be okay."

Behind her, Jack Fenton (father, this was technically his father) smiled at him. "I'll get you some fudge. You look like I could see your ribs, kiddo. Don't worry, we'll have all the paperwork sorted out in no time."

He hadn't expected this reaction, hadn't known it was possible. She was warm and sweet, and Jack was accepting and almost joyous in his happiness, and everything seemed too good to be true, a perfect beginning he was certain would come crashing down around him. He never was an optimist, afraid that optimism would burn him. He'd given himself over wholly to someone once, blind in his optimism he was a good son, a loved one, one that had a good life and always would. The scars it had left to be plunged into darkness before still kept him wary of people in general, aware that they could turn on a dime, that they weren't often who they presented themselves as. And he didn't want to attach to theses two.

But as he tentatively hugged Maddie back, he realized he already was.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Next chapter is pretty much Vlad's, as he plans not to let this go unnoticed or unpunished. But this establishes some OC backstory and background so we don't have to go over it again in the rest of the fic. Thank you to my reviewers and everyone who's following this story for your encouragement! Also since I named my character after a street in my town, don't ask what the name means. I have no idea.

* * *

He had named himself.

The name he had gotten from his creator was Dan. It was nothing more than a reminder of how he should have been. Once upon a time he had loved it and thought himself the man's son, but those days were four months past now, and he saw it clearly for what it was. It was an attempt to enslave him, to make him one of the many Danny variations, to make him a clone in spirit and mind of another boy entirely. All it had been was manipulation, and for all he now tried not to care about anything, he despised it wholeheartedly. He was not Dan. He was not Danny. He was his own person and he reserved the right to like and dislike whatever he pleased, not what his creator said he liked.

There had been music, the NASA channel, all kinds of things he was told he enjoyed or would enjoy, would like. But when his creator left the room and he was certain the man was gone, he would turn the channel to Ovation and watch Shakespearean plays and operas, he would listen to the classical music channel and take in Baroque music with rapt attention and total bliss. His favorite color was not blue like Danny's, it was Isabelline, a color that sat on the color spectrum perfectly inbetween gray, brown and yellow, light and alive. He did not like these things to spite Vlad or Danny. He simply liked what he liked channel surfing and fiddling with the radio. He was told he was supposed to be a poor English student who did well in other subjects, but found math difficult while breezing through English. He did not take to brainwashing like Danielle had, and that was another strike against him in his creator's eyes.

He'd changed names often since his escape. Usually if asked for a first name he went by something common he'd heard on the street. If pressed for a last name he defaulted to the names of streets, because most were last names to start with. When asked to string the two together he went for anything but alliteration, knowing alliterative names were easy to remember. He did not want a trail behind him. He lived without a name for three months, consistently shifting, trying to keep off all records, off the grids. He even wore gloves all the time to keep from leaving fingerprints on anything. All he would ever be was a ghost of a person until he could find true security in the arms of his biological contributors, who would legally be obligated to take him in. He had not anticipated a warm welcome.

After three months of constant shifts he had decided it was time to leave a trail in New Mexico. Vlad's lab for new clones had been located in Mexico itself, carefully, so as not to attract attention from Danny Phantom. But flying across the border was easy for the halfa, having had Vlad's morph DNA forced into his system painfully and excruciatingly for every day for six months. It was like having knives shoved into his nerves every time, yet he'd endured it, hanging on blindly to the hope he could escape. He would always endure, to become strong enough to leave. The morph DNA took a long time to acclimate to his body, and it was painful in ways he couldn't describe. Yet in the end when he took to the sky with a suitcase en tow it had all been worth it.

He was now nearing seven months old, with a trail leading him throughout New Mexico under the same name, which had become permanent now. The trail meant that Vlad would legally have difficulties getting him when he had the DNA of another family in him and a legal presence far from Vlad's house. All that was left was to let himself get taken in by Social Services and insist against all reason he was the son of Maddie and Jack Fenton, forcing a DNA test when the uncanny resemblance between himself and Danny was noticed.

Now he was nervously on the couch, eating the fudge Jack had brought him, awaiting the arrival of his… not siblings, it was too early to call them that. The spawn of his genetic contributors, then. That was a good term, it kept them at an emotional distance where they belonged. All that it would take was Danny rejecting him for this to fall apart. He was sure the other boy was strong enough to kill him or run him right out of town. As he finished off his fudge, making Jack beam at him, Maddie was upstairs telling their real children what was going on, or what she knew of it. He bit his lip and waited for the inevitable confrontation. Fate did not keep him waiting long.

Jazz was pretty in her own way, even though he got a vibe off of her that he normally got off of a professional in the adult world. She looked him over as if searching for something. Danny, though, made his heart slam into his chest in what was undeniably fear, hard as he fought to look neutral. Danny seemed to be in shock, looking at him in a way best described as gawking. His expression was one of questioning until it hardened into something unfriendly, filled with knowledge. He probably thought that Vlad had sent the other boy here, as if he would ever let his precious creation have freedoms like that. It was unfair – if anything, Danny was the one who should be glared at, for being the reason that life had been a never ending parade of failure attempting to live up to him.

He rose to his feet, uncertainly. "I'm Lokane. I assume that you've been informed of the situation." The formality in his voice was by his own choosing. He would never sound casual like Danny or posh and condescending like Vlad. He had chosen his own way of speaking, after some trials of other ways to speak. This was the way that yielded positive results and was natural to slip into for him.

Danny looked at his parents and shared a look with his sister. "Yeah. Um, I'm Danny."

_Oh, I know._ "It's nice to meet you."

"And I'm Jazz," the redheaded girl interjected, moving forward to take his hand in both of hers. "I'm your older sister. I think. How old are you?"

_That is a great question_. "I'm not sure. I remember my birthday, but not my age, per se."

She gave him a genuine look of sympathy, and it hit him that she must know from Danny what was going on and really felt bad for him. She was into psychology. She would try to 'turn' him from Vlad until she realized he never stood with the man, not since Vlad had made one mistake too many with Dan. Not since the day Dan gave up on being Dan and began to push towards the path that led to him being Lokane had he truly cared for the monster of a man that raised him. Jazz was the most likely to understand his situation, since he knew from Vlad she already knew about halfas. She had the best grasp on the ordeal so far.

Danny, however, was eyeing him awkwardly, and silence settled uneasily over the room. Lokane and Danny stared at each other. Lokane was paler, taller, and substantially thinner – if his shirt was off every rib could be seen. He was not well fed, living on the streets, but it had taught him how to lie, how to steal, how to deal with police, how to control every emotion and motion, every thought and every word. Danny's hair was the mess of a boy who had just woken up while Lokane had the slicked back hair of a boy trying to appear older than he was. Their postures were different, even when tense; Danny slumped, Lokane stood straight, Danny's feet were turned inward awkwardly, Lokane's feet were perfectly even as if in the military. They were feet from each other and worlds away. Danny glared him down for a long, suspicious amount of time, and something within Lokane just _broke_.

For a moment, Lokane just shut his eyes and hung his head, doubt overwhelming his young mind. Danny was going to kill him, hurt him, extort him for information about Vlad. This had all been a mistake. He supposed he could run, but with a record it would be so much harder to keep up life on the run and he didn't have proper winter attire, he'd have to do more degrading things to survive and… it was all falling apart, all for nothing, all done and planned and shattered. What would he do? How would Maddie and Jack feel if he ran away? He barely knew them, yet he couldn't hurt them. They were too nice, too loving, too open and generous. His mind raced and he braced himself for the worst case scenario, for everything to go wrong, because in his life everything had always been pain. Everything had always been hard, impossible, painful, agonizing, degrading, the kind of life where everything blurred together into sharp crisp moments of cynicism. He was not yet a _year_ old. There was only so much maturity he could fake or things he could take.

He was a kid. He was alone. His plan was a child's prayer. And if Danny rejected him, there was no hope for tomorrow.

Danny's hand made contact with his shoulder, and Lokane's identical if almond shaped eyes opened in response automatically. Their gazes met. Danny didn't look as guarded as before, and he smiled hesitantly, catching Lokane off guard. They stared at each other, Lokane totally lost, before Danny pulled him into a one armed hug, briefly. The contact was five times as startling as when Maddie had done it, because she was a mother and he expected her to be affectionate. Danny's next words more or less blew Lokane's mind.

"Welcome home, bro," he said simply, and Lokane felt his temporary panic vanish, replaced with tentative hope once more.

"I've never had a home," Lokane admitted, knowing only Jazz and Danny understood the severity of that statement. _My creator's house was only a building._

"Well," Danny said, guiding his clone towards the kitchen, "you do now. Now let's get you something to eat, you look like a toothpick."

Lokane didn't know it then, but that would become a running theme in his life.

* * *

Lokane had to explain his life before he got to the Fentons.

He sat at the kitchen table with them, eating a bowl of spaghetti, which Jazz insisted was a healthy comfort food. She also said smells like that would help him subconsciously relax, and though he couldn't tell if she was right, he appreciated the effort. Danny seemed to continually eye the thinness of Lokane's wrists and torso with disapproval and vague anger. Maybe he thought Vlad hadn't fed him. Truthfully, he had. But starving on the streets was worth it if it meant a chance at freedom, a chance to be who he was and not a puppet on a string. He had discovered halfas could not starve to death no matter how long they went without food, even if the hunger pains were devastating and the appetite twice as hard to satisfy as a full human, most likely because a ghost's body couldn't process human food very well.

"I lived on the streets," he started, stoic as he could manage. "That's what I remember. I remember New Mexico, traveling from town to town when I wasn't welcome somewhere any more. I didn't want to be caught by the police, because I'd heard foster homes were nightmares. And based off my brief experience in one, I can say they _are_. So mostly, I guess my life has just been trying to get by. I've… done some bad things." He risked a glance up at his biological contributors. "I've stolen a lot of things in my life. I've broken into places. I never meant to hurt anyone, I just wanted to make it through each day."

He sincerely regretted the petty thefts he'd committed. Those people had homes and families to provide for and a lot of tiny stolen items added up. But sometimes the hunger became unbearable and his clothes wore out and he just needed something, anything. It had been so degrading, to lower himself to that level. If he could he usually tried to dumpster dive over outright stealing. The allure of smells from supermarkets was hard, and the worst part was that small family owned businesses were the easiest to steal from. He'd tried to at least aim for food that was marked for quick sale so it was the smallest amount of lost money possible.

As for what he'd done to afford places to stay the night, he couldn't even contemplate that. His genetic relatives never needed to know about some of the things he'd lowered himself to in order to find safe lodgings for the nights when the police were circling too close and the cold of night was unbearable on his thin, malnourished body.

"Eventually the police picked me up. I got transferred to Social Services, where they did DNA testing due to my total lack of records. That's how I found out about all of you. They briefed me on the details as they flew me over."

"That's not standard procedure," Jazz started, then realized she was putting the validity of his story in question, and amended, "But this isn't a standard case."

"You're thirteen," Maddie declared quietly. Lokane looked at her, puzzled, as all eyes turned to her. "Ten months after I had Danny, I had a miscarriage where they had to remove the baby via C-section. It was eight months in. You lived, I just… I don't understand how you ended up on the streets."

"What matters is I'm here now," he reassured her firmly. "I don't know how this happened, but we're together now, aren't we? And I think that's worth something. All my life I thought I was going to be alone. Now…" he swallowed thickly, unexpected moved by her thoughts she was his birth mother. "I'm with you."

"You are," Danny noted, expression still a bit wary. "So, what now?"

Lokane answered that question with utmost and total honesty.

"I have no idea."


End file.
